Game Over
by Zeff N Company
Summary: A tribute to Memorize by Stellar Eclipse - we came back to find the Keyblade Master, to aid him and watch him bring us the triumph over the darkness we had all but earned by now. All we did was arrive in time to watch him fall.


Setting: Kingdom Hearts I, possible "bad ending"

A tribute to _Memorize_ by Stellar Eclipse.

* * *

_"Woe, woe, for what fools these mortals be._

_"They toil to build so many things, believing that they can change the world, believing that they can last forever. Yet all things were once dust; no matter how long or hard these mortals toil, all these things they have sweated and bled for to craft - they shall fall away to their original state, and some sooner than others. Be it a lonely refuge or a lost kingdom; be it the bonds of love or the ties of friendship, all things..._

_"Yea, out of the dust did they come, and back to the dust they will go. Leave it to these mortals to invent things such as hope and faith, determination and confidence, trust and promise...little lies of comfort to spur them further in their futility. Lies that give them that wee bit of happiness amidst the inevitable sorrow that shall devour them. Lies beget idiocy, for no matter how they justify, they still drown in the swollen river they fought so hard against._

_"Alas, alas; what fools these mortals be."_

* * *

We have failed. Everything that we learned, everything that we struggled through, even everything that we gave up; all for this moment...all for naught. We are here in Hollow Bastion, where it all began - we were born here, we were raised here, and we returned here. Now, we will die here. Probably better than to leave our remains to an alien world...such small, bitter comfort.

Somehow, our hearts fell upon the same idea; we came back - Cid, Squall, Aerith, Yuffie and myself - to find the Keyblade Master, to aid him and watch him bring us the triumph over the darkness we had all but earned by now. We wanted to be here, to see if our world would be restored to the color and splendor it had displayed in our vague, foggy memories from so long ago.

All we did was arrive in time to watch him fall. Even the power of the Keyblade - the hope that we had coveted - was not enough against that wretched evil. Everything had fallen apart in that single moment, and everything that happened after - everything up until this point - mocked us for even trying.

Squall had placed himself heroically between the others and the traitor king, and by his left was one of monstrous ferocity - Beast, I think, though memory matters so little now. And there at his right did I take my place. Three defenders against an assailant that was more than a match for us. And Ansem merely sneered; this battle was decided long before we even thought to bring out what courage we had left, and his pause was merely to ponder on how best to enjoy the spectacle.

I was a fool to think I had survived nine years of darkness without significant ill effect, especially when the cursed wing sprouting from my shoulder blade still arched and quivered behind me. I was a greater fool to think the strength I had so willfully gleaned from that darkness would be an additional aid in this fight. My greatest folly was forgetting that, just as easily as the darkness bestowed its power...it could seize it once more with the exact same ease.

It was just surreal in that moment, if only it were not so crystal clear in my mind. Ansem had won before we even started, and he demanded a show.

What better way to entertain himself than to have little old me - a runaway puppet still trailing his strings - dance to his every whim?

What easier way to dash the hopes of the defiant remnants than to watch the friend they once thought lost suddenly turn on them so viciously?

What more musical was the accompaniment of sobs and hoarse screams as the once-human prince cursed to be a monster was slain where he stood...and as the stoic hero they once thought unstoppable was mercilessly beaten within an inch of his life?

They lay there in a growing pool of blood, one dead and the other too crippled to defend himself, and I stood over them with a bandaged sword that was thoroughly drenched. I struggled to scream, to give outlet to the emotions that clawed so viciously within me. My ears were ringing, and through the drone I heard the cruel laughter of the man who had sold himself and all the worlds to the single, unlocked keyhole behind him that continued to belch out more of that wretched evil. Avatars of darkness came to his side, and amongst them was the one that embodied my own. Any doubts about him being no more than that were gone - I could see the swirling purple that surrounded and caressed him.

There in that moment, all we had denied came to fruition: the Keyblade Master determined to end this light-forsaken era had failed. The Beast who accomplished much by belief alone had lost his chance of redemption. The knight that changed his name as a promise to reclaim what was gone had fallen. The boy that wanted to be free from his darkness now granted it yet more room in his heart. The one who should have been punished now laughed over us all as he reveled in his unchallenged victory.

We had been defeated once and for all, and the moment we had waited so long for...it was gone.

...it was just not _fair_.

* * *

Cid was the first to go. Perhaps it was because he had been the one to steal away three children, instead of just keeling over like everyone else on that fateful day. His moment as a savior made him something akin to the "father" of the rebellion against darkness - without his actions, the children would not have grown up, pieces of the journal would not have been taken by them, Squall would not have become King Mickey's trustee Leon, and most importantly, the Keyblade Master would not have come as far as he did. Ansem must have taken that rather personally, and this was his enacted punishment.

Cid went down in the exact same way he had overcome all his past obstacles: angry, defiant, and swearing like a sailor. That crusty old man's last words were insults, goading his executioner to do his job properly, and when the deed was done, his cocky grin was still there as a final mocking salute.

Yuffie was the second; why her, I'll never understand. She had been a mere babe in arms when it all happened - had known so little of a life before, and had grown up striving for a future that was brighter than this. I wonder if she'll ever forgive us for letting her believe - for letting ourselves believe - in that lie.

Before the fateful strike, she had fought back. The sneaky kid had picked up tricks that I had not found out about, and was slippery as an eel as she dodged and danced around the death that was awaiting her attendance. It had been a valiant struggle, and I nearly dared to believe she could escape. In the end, it was the interference of a dark spell that simply vaporized her into non-existence. We can only hope it was painless, at least when compared to everything else we were put through.

Sephiroth personally saw to Aerith's execution, something along the lines of ending a past insult. I'm certain that was supposed to trigger a memory within me, for the way he drove his long silver blade through her chest...it had looked familiar, as though I had seen the exact same thing before. As the light faded from those soft, tearful green eyes, I questioned if she was experiencing the same sense of déjà vu. I'd never know now; the blade was removed from her lifeless form, and there did the cruel man who was part of me stand over her with Masamune stained in her blood.

"This time, stay dead," he had muttered. If only I knew what that meant...if only it actually mattered in any way. A fat lot of good information could do for any of us in our circumstances...

Now, only two of us remained, locked away to await the final hour. I'm either the luckiest or the unluckiest one amongst us, for I have no share in the fate of the others that went before us - the same fate that awaited the one I held in my arms. After I had so easily succumbed to the darkness' control that first time, Ansem had apparently deemed me "useful" and decided to keep me. I was only allowed to be here with everyone else for the sake of breaking me further, of easing the invasion of darkness into the rest of my heart.

And it was working; damn that monster, it was _working_... Each death I was forced to watch, I knew I was losing more ground. It wasn't fair. I had struggled to live for nine years - and nearly lost myself in the time at the Coliseum - for the sake of coming home to them, and now I was losing them. I had fought so long and hard to find these who were my family, and now they were all leaving again, one by one.

Even Tifa is gone. When I saw Sephiroth appear, I had been expecting Tifa to show up as well - that fierce and furious embodiment of blinding light that should have been my saving grace. After Sora left, I had finally remembered her; she even revealed herself to me a few times - all ending with me going into hiding from the light that just _hurt_. Still, in that somber moment, I had dared to hope she would come, even as the answer was revealed to me in the increasing density of the darkness that warped its way into the one-winged avatar's very essence.

She never came to the rescue; never showed even a glimpse of light. How I wanted to believe that she was simply delayed; that she was trying to reach us but was unable to. I wanted to believe that she will come soon enough, instead of... Shiva help me, I don't want to believe that she's gone. I don't want to believe that my giving way to the darkness has caused her to fade in return. I don't want to believe that I may have killed her even before truly acknowledging her.

Tifa, where are you? Tifa, get over here.

I need that light, Tifa, while I can still fight against all this.

Tifa? Tifa...!

Tifa, I'm sorry.

No more running, I promise. I won't avoid you anymore. Not now and not with things this bad. I'm here, so...

_Tifa, I said I'm sorry...!_

_Why won't you answer me?_

... Tifa, please...don't leave me now... _Not now_...

* * *

It was a shaky breath that brought me to my senses, and I looked down at the severely weakened man who struggled to rouse. I never wanted to see him so helpless like this; of course, I never thought I'd be the one who would land him in such a pathetic state to begin with. There was no argument here about holding back or proving strength; the hand that wields the weapon is also located on the more vulnerable side of a warrior, as a price for being the means of attack. I had been on that side, that fateful day, and he had trusted me enough to let me stay there.

That strike was a dirty, underhand assault to his unguarded side, dealt with the singular intent of crushing him, and it had worked. I had betrayed him so completely and utterly, and here I was holding onto him...and he was letting me. The disgust that grew in the pits of my stomach; I was not certain who it was directed at exactly, but I had a general idea.

Nothing would ever salvage the damage I had done to him. I managed to hurt him so badly, they had to drag him in here, and for the first few days before and after Cid had been marched out to his death, he had been incapable of even moving a muscle. If I had not taken to lifting his head onto my lap, he would probably pass out from trying to handle himself; heavens knew why the stubborn idiot refused the same treatment from Aerith before she was...or perhaps that was the reason after all.

"...so this is it..."

The barely audible whisper was all I needed to hear to notice he was fully awake at last. As though it mattered; he was still reclining limply against me, as he did in all the time we were imprisoned in here. Glassy eyes that had once been sharp and focused now drifted aimlessly around before at last finding my face hovering over his own.

He surprised me when he suddenly chuckled hoarsely and relaxed further against my leg.

"...did you know...I was pretty torn up...thought you were dead?"

I had to look away; I couldn't bring myself to look into those eyes right now. Not when I knew what he was going to say.

"...sorry..."

_Sorry for leaving you behind those nine years ago._

_Sorry for nine years you should have spent at our side, instead of on your own like that._

_Sorry for allowing you to fall this far that you'd be forced to turn against us._

"Stop it," I heard myself mutter back, though I still refused to look his way. "I... I forgot you. I betrayed you. I attacked you, and..."

_I hurt you._

A movement, and I looked back down at him. His entire countenance was strained, as though he were trying to say something and failing. Until finally...

"...take it off."

He must have noticed my confusion, as he looked away momentarily to glance down at his chest.

"...pendant...take it off."

I had no idea what was going on, but I did not refuse him. The man was barely able to stay conscious, but he watched my hand the entire time as I undid the clasp before sliding the chain links from where they wound around his neck to pull it free. At last, it was in my hand, the silver lion pressed against my palm.

Still I lingered, taking in once more the face that had been changed so much in the nine years we had not seen each other. My hand moved on its own accord, and I did not realize it until a single finger was trailing across the long scar on his face. And he let me do it, his eyes sliding shut once more as that curious digit moved along the dark line that started above his right eyebrow, crossed the bridge of his nose, and ended somewhere near his left cheek.

There was a story there, behind that scar; behind every mark on the warrior's body. I knew those marks and where to find each of them, but the stories behind them... Once, I had longed to hear those stories; once, when I still dared to believe we could win. Now, that knowledge would never be granted to me. There was just too little time left...

Both my hands moved now, cupping his lower jaw to earn a soft sigh as cool metal pressed against his skin. Still did those lips remain parted, and one of my thumbs came up to trace across them. He was looking right at me now; though those eyes still seemed as dazed as before, they spoke with the same volume they always had. It was a grant of permission...and a request. I knew what he wanted. My thumb moved out of the way, and I bent down, head lowering to meet with his. My own lips pressed against the corner of his mouth, and in a long, taxing moment he responded without haste.

I shut my own eyes now, simply noting...the ensuing kiss we were exchanging was a trade of words that we would never get to say. It was a pure expression of raw emotion, of how much we had missed each other, of how glad we were to reunite, and of how much we truly cared. Most of all...it was our way of saying goodbye. It was delicate and tragic and painfully sweet, and there was a throbbing ache in my chest that had to be my darkness-tainted heart - swelling and fracturing simultaneously - as it rode out each of those emotions.

At last, he was the one who broke the contact, his gaze still lingering before he at last relented to his broken body and turned his head as far as he could manage. I heard him cough uncomfortably, and reality hit me again like an icicle to my gut: he was still so badly hurt, and our recent actions probably did a fine job of making it worse. And I was responsible for both.

He looked at me again, silently begging me to stop berating myself for a few minutes. I sighed - relenting - and my thumb moved again. This time, the exploration came away with traces of blood that had been expelled from the many internal injuries I could not even bring myself to count.

"Cloud," he finally spoke - the strength in that voice was startling enough to still my hand. For a moment, I saw a familiar spark that had left those eyes for too long as he managed to continue his request.

"...take care of Griever."

The lion head in my hand suddenly burned to be released. I don't know how I was able to keep holding it as I did, but I managed my reply without too much of a tremor.

"Squall, I can't. This is..."

"The only thing...I can give you now," he cut in, his eyes slamming shut again as he grimaced.

His forearm was shaking, his fingers trembling as he tried to move. I reached down to take those fingers, if only to help him guide me to what he wanted, and then he latched on to the pendant that I still had yet to let go of.

"This way...I'm not all gone..." as his hoarse words burned into my ears, his finger grazed the lion head almost fondly. "...I'll be in here."

_I'll always be with you._

And the nine years I thought had matured me fell away. For a moment, I was fourteen again, unafraid to express myself, and especially not to the other boy who was my constant companion in a kingdom that promised peace. I buried my face into dark hair that was sticky with dried blood, and I could feel my grief trickling out in warm streaks down my face as I sobbed quietly.

And then I felt a faint pressure - one that was familiar and reassuring - as his hand somehow summoned the strength to squeeze mine. His pendant was pressed between our palms, the metal warm from our combined contact. And my other hand - the hand that was still cradling his jaw - was graced by a similar warmth that dampened my fingers.

The Squall that I remembered - that I once thought so far gone - was still there, still thinking of me, if only for this brief, tragic moment in time. And even though we both knew that he was about to be taken from me, I felt a part of myself die as I realized how much I did not want to let him go.

* * *

It was either a mercy or a final act of torment that Ansem himself chose to perform Squall's execution.

There they were on the grounds that were still stained in rusty brown from the previous killings that had occurred there not too long ago. Their audience were the ten statues of ebony that lined the circumference of the arena. The statues...the remains of the seven Princesses of Heart, the Keyblade Master and his two companions. Their light - the source of power from their very hearts - had been stolen from them without turning them into Heartless, cursing them into an eternity of watching the tragedy of their failure.

The frozen form of the Keyblade Master was directly behind Squall, as Ansem strode up to stand facing them. As a final insult, he had graced himself once more with the true appearance of the boy - now a shell - that he had seized control of. In his hand appeared the weapon I've come to recognize as Soul Eater - the same weapon that had brought Cid down that first time; it appeared he found more amusement in bringing about actual death than turning us into shadow minions.

Flanking my prison were the avatars that quietly awaited the finishing blow that would put the broken man out of his misery; I remember hatefully how some of them had even sneered as the others were killed. Yet today, all of them were void of expression, the mood somber. I did not know if this was due to a hint of respect, or wariness. Perhaps both.

Squall's resilience had surprised us all, especially myself...and especially Ansem. Despite all the pain he must have been experiencing, he forced himself to rise, and now stood upright to face his executioner. He betrayed nothing on his expression as he gazed down at the shorter figure, waiting with such a calm that it was unnerving.

The man who had once vehemently denied himself in being anything like his father...was now the true display of a father's son, as he stood tall and unyielding before his tormentor with the same noble air that I remembered seeing on his predecessor. Ansem had used me to break his body, but nothing could break the lion's spirit... and from where I knelt behind the barrier of bars, I could not help but feel so proud of him.

But the surge of pride in my chest faded to deadness as Soul Eater was raised high in the air, its wing-shaped blade a shadow in the already dark sky. Squall never looked at it, his eyes baring into Ansem's. And in a split second - so quickly that another would not have seen it - he _smirked_. It was an expression I didn't think he was capable of, but it was there, and it carried a message that seemed to spit in the traitor king's face:

_Screw you and your whole messed up world._

The blade came down.

To the side, there was a sudden dark cloud that seemed to cloak Sephiroth out of existence for a brief moment; I didn't really have to look at it anymore to know it was there...to know _why_ it was there. When I looked his way, he was looking back...for someone who had been egging me to give in to the darkness so much, I thought he'd be happier. From the way his eyes narrowed like that, he probably thought the same thing.

...maybe this last blow affected both of us after all, if he truly was a part of me as he said.

There was something like a shadow dancing in my vision now, as I suddenly felt numb in my arms; it was the same feeling that I got when Ansem had tested his power over me that first time. This was different, though, somehow...I was still in control. Flat upon my chest was Griever, and I could feel that faint trace of warmth that had been Squall's promise. It was my anchor to that little bit of light left in my heart, just enough to keep me from being wrested over completely.

A loud, forced laugh brought my wavering focus back on Ansem, as the boy-like figure gloated over the fallen warrior he had just slain. The mad grin on his face did not reach his eyes, which instead were angry and confused. Ansem twitched, fidgeted, as though suddenly uncertain of what he should do now. Then he looked up at the ebony statue standing directly in his line of vision, and pointed the tip of Soul Eater at it.

"Enjoying the view, _hero_?!" he demanded.

The frozen face of the Keyblade Master did not give him any response - how _could_ it? That did not seem to deter the one that held his blood-stained weapon there as he did. Suddenly, there was a loud exclamation as Ansem brought a hand to wipe furiously across his face.

"_What is this_...?" he hissed, staring down at the moisture on his hand...the tears from a grieving boy who was guilt-stricken by all that had been done - all that he had let happen.

With a scoff, Ansem sharply flicked the filth from the Soul Eater, leaving the blade clean once more. Still was his attention away from me, as I noticed the same of the avatars that served him.

I could feel consciousness slipping away from under me. I did not know what was about to happen, nor did I care - I was tired, and I was finished with all of this. To sleep...sounded good.

As I allowed the dark, ugly view of Ansem's kingdom to fade away, I thought I could just see how the splatters from Soul Eater had landed upon the statue.

Silhouetted in a world that was doomed by his failure, the defeated Keyblade Master was weeping tears of blood.


End file.
